Distinguishing Features
by Maxie Kay
Summary: A 'missing scenes' interlude from S2 ep Familia, involving the whole team. So, exactly what makes our favourite NCIS agents so memorable? And would they agree? Complete and utter nonsense that delights in breaking down the 4th wall.
1. Chapter 1

**Distinguishing Features**

A missing interlude from _Familia_

An NCIS FAnfiction

by

Maxie Kay

The papers felt as if they were burning a hole in his pocket and finally Deeks could no longer resist the temptation to take a better look at them. A quick flick through revealed that Hetty had indeed completed them, just as she had said. There were all the details of his life, laid out in stark black and white, and taking up remarkably little space. He wondered how detailed Callen's form had been, or Sam's – or even Kensi's, for that matter. There was probably a lot more information to capture about them. Still, when all was said and done, Hetty had come looking for him all those months ago; she'd gone out of her way to swing this transfer to NCIS as liaison. And now she wanted him to join the team permanently. All that was required was his signature. It was tempting, it was very tempting indeed. Despite what he had said to Hetty when she had made him this offer, Deeks knew deep down that there was a large part of him that was longing to say 'yes', to make the transfer permanent and official. Working for NCIS wasn't so very different to being a cop after all – he was still out there, helping to protect people, albeit on a different scale. And it wouldn't do any harm to take a closer look at the details, just to make sure they were correct, should he ever decide to sign. Not that he had made a decision, or that he was even vaguely tempted – but still, all those years of legal training still held good: _'never sign anything without reading it first. And then rereading it'_. The devil always tended to be in the details, after all.

Scanning through the first page, Deeks thought that everything seemed to be in order: the usual details of full name and date of birth; likewise for his parents, only with space for their dates of death. Hetty had completed that, including the date of Gordon John Brandel's somewhat ignominious end. She'd spared him that much, at least, which was considerate of her. Deeks was pretty sure the rest of the team also knew the bare bones of the story, but thus far no-one had ever mentioned anything about his revelation that at the tender age of 11 he'd shot his father. It probably made him seem like some kind of hard man, he realised. If only they knew the truth… But that was in the past, and this was all about his future. He continued reading.

Bland detail followed bland detail: height, weight, colour of eyes and hair and, not surprisingly, Hetty had got all those correct as well. Sometimes it seemed as if she knew Deeks better than he knew himself. The woman was good, she was damned good. But then he already knew that. And then his eyes fell on a box headed 'Distinguishing Features'. Hetty had written 'none' and then drawn a diagonal line through the box. That counted as 'belt and braces', as his erstwhile conveyancing professor had once said – making sure there was no room for doubt and no scope for amendment. Only something about it rankled…

"You want to share that with us, Deeks?" Kensi was standing behind him, peering over his shoulder. Deeks made an effort to hide the papers with his arm, but it was too late. Clearly Hetty had inculcated some of her mutant ninja techniques into her female agent. Damn the woman. Damn both of the, come to that.

"Not particularly. That's why I didn't. Share with you, that is."

"He's hiding something," Sam called across and Deeks groaned internally. He should have known better that to look at the damned form in here. If he'd had the brains he was born with, he'd have gone off to the restroom and locked himself into a stall, or gone out to his car, or even barricaded himself into the stationery cupboard. You could spend hours in there, as he'd discovered. It was a useful bolt-hole to have and as most people used their PCs for just about everything, you were almost guaranteed to be undisturbed, unless someone had a PostIt note emergency. They were about the only items of stationery used on a regular basis and sometimes Deeks wondered how people had managed without them. It would be considerably more difficult to stick those little notes on Kensi's butt saying _'kick me'_ and _'I have a great ass and I know it'_ if you had to go to all the trouble of getting Scotch Tape. Whoever had invented PostIt notes should get some kind of award.

Kensi managed to grab the papers and, of course, she laughed as she read them. This was Kensi, after all, and Deeks really didn't expect anything else. "Distinguishing Features: none," she read out in a particularly penetrating voice. "Well, that makes it official, Deeks. You're not at all distinguished. But then we all knew that anyway, didn't we?"

"Very funny. You want to give me those back?"

"Not really." Kensi kept on reading and suddenly realised what she was holding in her hands. "This is an application form for NCIS. And Hetty's signed it." She looked at him accusingly. "And you weren't going to say anything about it, were you?"

"Not at this precise moment, no. That's why I wasn't saying anything. On purpose. Until you came along and blabbed. It's private, Kensi – alright? It's got nothing to do with you." Deeks grabbed the papers back and stared at her belligerently.

"Hell no – it's not alright. It's got everything to do with me. I'm your partner. I should have a say. Shouldn't I guys?" She looked across at Callen and Sam. "Come on, back me up here. I'm right, aren't I?"

Sam could see she was getting herself worked up and decided to stoke the fires just a little. "It's too late. He's pre-approved. You're stuck with him, Kensi. For better or for worse. Just like a marriage."

"Marriages can be annulled," Deeks said darkly. "Like they never existed. Wiped out. Record expunged. Obliterated, even. And I've not signed anything. Not yet."

"Shut up while you're still ahead," Sam advised kindly. "You're painting yourself into a corner."

"You still should have said something," Kensi said, with a mutinous look on her face. "I had a right to know. It serves you right that you're so undistinguished you're practically invisible."

"That might actually come in handy – let him blend into a crowd." Callen looked at Deeks carefully and shook his head sadly. "As if."

"What do you mean?" All of a sudden, Deeks was unsure if it was better to have lots of distinguishing features, or none at all. Did the lack of any distinguishing features mean you weren't memorable? He had always thought that they wanted to know these sorts of details in the same way that dental records used to be the gold standard of evidential verification – that should your corpse turn up at the side of a highway one day, then they could at least make sure you were buried under the right name. But now he was beginning to wonder. God, it was a fair bet that Kensi, Sam and Callen all had masses of distinguishing features, enough that they needed a paper apart to catalogue them all. And here he was with a grand total of zero. Great. Maybe that meant he was never meant to be an NCIS agent?

* * *

><p><em>Not sure where the inspiration for this one came from... but the plot bunnines have been nibbling at my toes for couple of weeks now. And I shouldn't be doing this, not while I have another two stories on the go - but what the heck? Like? Dislike? Please let me know!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

"People notice you," Sam explained helpfully. "Because you look like a scruffy, superannuated surfer. Rather than a responsible adult."

"You stand out too," Deeks argued. "So what did you put down on your form then? Big, with a pointy, shiny head?"

"My head is not pointy. It's beautifully shaped."

"No, it's pointy." Deeks looked to Callen for confirmation. "Isn't it?"

Much as he hated to do this, Callen had to agree. "It's not quite a cone-head, but it is quite pointy. You kind of look like one of those babies that's been pulled out by that suction thingy. You know – it looks like a sink plunger?"

"It's called a ventouse." Deeks clocked the incredulous looks. "So I pick up things and retain them. You got a problem with that?"

"No more than with the rest of you and your annoying habits."

"It doesn't make me a bad person."

"It doesn't make you a good person either," Kensi observed. "Just an annoying one."

Deeks decided it was time to return to the subject in hand. "So, what exactly did you put down on your form, Sam? Come on, give me a hand here, won't you?"

"Big, with a bald, shiny, pointy head?" Callen suggested. Deeks grinned and noted those down on a PostIt note.

"I am not bald. I shave my head." There was a clear difference, and Sam felt he had to make the point. Of course, the fact was that he might very well be bald – if he had not purposefully made sure not a single hair graced his scalp. It was one thing being completely bald as a matter of choice and style, it was quite another looking like a monk, or watching your hairline retreat backwards and he determined neither of those would happen to him.

Callen eyed him speculatively. "And yet we never see any stubble or even a suspicion of five o'clock shadow. Which makes me think."

"I'm glad something does," Deeks murmured to himself.

"It makes me think too." Kensi reached out and rubbed her hand over Sam's head speculatively. "It's almost too smooth, isn't it? And you never see any razor burn or nicks, do you?" She was currently nursing a particularly painful cut on the back of her left ankle, which had bled like blazes. And yet Sam had yet to appear with small patches of toilet tissue adorning his head, which was very, very suspicious. Not to mention too good to be true.

"I use an electric razor and shaving foam. I take pride in my appearance." Sam gave Deeks a pointed look as he said this. Sadly, as Deeks bent over his laptop at the time, so this literally went over his head

Kensi shook her head. "No, I don't think you do. It's too good a job." She thought about it for a moment. "You use a depilatory cream, don't you? You big girl's blouse. Go on – 'fess up. Which do you prefer – _Nair or Veet_?"

"Neither."

"_Magic Shave_," Callen said reflectively. "That's what he uses. I saw some in his bathroom."

"I have very delicate skin," Sam said defensively. "And it was right at the back of my bathroom cabinet. Well above your eye level."

"It must have got moved to the front. And I'm not that short."

"Yes you are. That's what's on his form, Deeks – short. And nosey. Add those to your list."

"Hetty's short – I'm taller than Hetty."

"Everyone's taller than Hetty. Even Nell's taller than Hetty," Kensi informed him.

It might be grasping at straws, but Callen simply had to say it. "I'm taller than Nell too."

There was no longer enough room on the PostIt Note, so Deeks had started to compile a spreadsheet containing all the relevant information, complete with a column for each team member. He amended the entry under Callen's name to '_quite short'_ and then added _'no first name'_ for good measure.

"That's really not saying much, Callen - but if it's the best you can come up with, I suppose it will have to do." He stared at the screen for a few seconds and then added _'incipient bald spot'_, much to Kensi's amusement. Under Nell and Hetty's names he wrote _'short'_ and _'very short' _respectively and Kensi thought she might just have a little accident.

"What about me?" she asked curiously, seeing the colimn under her name was still blank

"What about you?" Deeks leant back in his chair and grinned up at her. "I know what you want me to write."

"You don't know anything."

"Have it your own way." He drew an elaborate question mark on a piece of paper and then with a few strokes turned it into a cat looking over its shoulder. A few seconds later, the phrase _'hot or not? That is the question'_ appeared onscreen.

"It is not." Kensi smacked him across the back of the head. "And can I help it if you think I'm hot?"

"Did I say I thought you were hot? I don't think so. In fact, I know so. You think you're hot – there's a difference. A world of difference. Maybe we should vote on it?"

There were times when Kensi really wondered what she had done to deserve Deeks. "You are _not_ going to vote on whether I'm hot."

"No, we're not," he agreed. "We're going to vote on whether you _think_ you're hot. And I vote 'yes'. Sam?"

"Make that 'yes' for me too"

"Make that unanimous. But I think we should even things up a bit." Well, Callen reasoned, it was his responsibility as team leader to make sure things were fair and equitable. "So, let's see who else thinks that Kensi thinks Deeks is hot?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear little crack-fic plot bunny has decided it was high time he rejoined the party. Except the usual madness..._

* * *

><p>"So, let's see who else thinks that Kensi thinks Deeks is hot?" Callen looked around expectantly.<p>

"Me."

"At the risk of sounding immodest, me too."

"Any advance on that?" Callen asked facetiously, not really expecting any response and was taken aback when a resounding chorus of "Hell yes!" greeted this remark.

Kensi looked slightly stunned as the entire populace of The Mission spoke as one. "Since when did they get lines?" she wondered. "That's going to put the budget up considerably if the extras bill Shane for speaking roles. And he's not going to be happy." She glared at the extras, who were completely overcome by the excitement of it all, for mainly their roles consisted of the not particularly onerous tasks of sitting at a desk or walking while holding a bit of paper.

"That would be unanimous then," Deeks said, trying very hard not to smirk and failing completely. In Kensi's column he added _'thinks she's hot'_ and _'thinks Deeks is hot'_.

"I do not!" Kensi protested as she watched him type, but nobody was listening. The extras had all been hustled off-set, just in case they got any more smart ideas into their heads about speaking again. "And that was a complete exaggeration. Not everyone thinks I think you're hot."

"Name one person who doesn't?" Sam challenged.

"Some people think I think Callen's hot."

Deeks looked astounded. "Really? Who? And why?"

"Why is that so hard to understand? I'm the star of the show, after all. It stands to reason."

Sam ignored this. He knew they had equal billing. And besides, he was taller and nothing callen could say would even change that. Even if he did have a normal shaped head. "Beats me. Wishful thinking, I guess. I mean, Kensi would never be able to wear high heels if she was with Callen. Unless he got lifts. Or stood on a stool."

"They'd look a bit like Princess Diana and Prince Charles."

"Exactly. And look what happened there."

Callen felt it was time to speak up on behalf of short men. Not that he was admitting he was short, of course. "Katie Holmes is taller that Tom Cruise."

"If they're 'TomKat', does that make you and Kensi 'CalKen'?" Deeks wondered. He added _'wishes Kensi thinks he is hot'_ to Callen's details.

"There is no me and Callen!" Kensi sometimes wondered if he even bothered to listen.

"That's because you've got the hots for Deeks." Sam thought this was one of the best lines he'd ever been given and was determined to keep using it as often as possible.

"There could be a you and me." Callen felt it was important to make that clear. There was just the vaguest chance Shane might be listening.

"No, there couldn't," Kensi informed him. "I don't know where you got that idea from, but there couldn't."

"I've read stories where we're together," he protested. "Fanfic stories."

"And I've read stories where bears talk and rabbits wear pale blue jackets. It's called 'fiction' for a reason, you know – because it's not real." She didn't bother to add that many, many more stories were written about herself and Deeks. "You and me involved romantically, Callen? No. It's not going to happen. " Kensi turned round and poked Sam in the chest. "And don't even bother saying it's because I've got the hots for Deeks, alright?"

Sam wondered why Kensi felt she had to keep on denying this. Apart from the fact that all the viewers were just waiting for the inevitable, she was wasting her breath, as it wasn't even as if the scriptwriters were around, far less Shane – or _'he who must obeyed'_, as lesser mortals were commanded to address him. Only those and such as those got to call Shane _'The Creator'_. The team wasn't included in that illustrious brethren, but Hetty was. Even Shane was frightened of Hetty, and he'd created her in the first place. "Callen's more like a father figure to you, or an uncle – right?"

"A good uncle, or one of those creepy ones, who makes you sit on his knee? Okay – I probably said too much there, didn't I?" Deeks returned to his spread-sheet and tried to ignore the aghast looks his team were sending behind his back. "Just ignore me. Make like I'm not even here." He typed another couple of remarks in about Kensi.

"I try to. But you just keep out with more inanities." Kensi looked over his shoulder, read what he'd just input and smacked his biceps. Hard enough to make a sound. After all, those sound techs weren't exactly been given a whole lot to do in this scene. "And that is so not true. And neither is that. Delete them – now."

"Or what? You gonna hit me again?"

"No, because you clearly enjoyed that."

"So I like strong, domineering women. I like you, don't I? There's nothing wrong with that. I'm confident with my sexuality."

"Cocky bastard."

"Nicely summarised, Callen. I like that. I'll just make a note of that." It was about time someone came up with something memorable about himself, Deeks thought. There was a definitely paucity of distinguishing features in his own column. Was that good, or was that bad?

Sam moved over and looked at the PC screen and sniggered when he read the latest entries about Kensi: _'tight jeans'_ and _'sticky out ears'_. "Right on both counts. Kensi - have you ever considered getting a pair of jeans that fit properly, instead of one size too small? You don't want to cut off your circulation. Not there."

"I think your jeans fit perfectly," Deeks volunteered, with complete sincerity.

"Translation: he ogles your butt. Actually, we all do."

Kensi made a vow to have a word with Wardrobe. A very stern word. She'd bet even money they didn't present Hetty with a miniscule pair of pants and a shoe horn. But there were more important battles to be fought. "My ears do not stick out."

"So why do you always make sure they're covered by your hair?" After that crack about him being more like a father or uncle, Callen felt it was time to get his own back.

"She does have nice hair though." Deeks added _'shiny hair'_ to Kensi's list of attributes, along with _'awesome rack'_.


	4. Chapter 4

_And what discussion of personal attributes would be complete without honourable mention of Deeks' hair? I think we all know how I feel about that particular subject..._

* * *

><p>"Talking of hair… and your hair in particular." Sam looked at Deeks meaningfully. "Start typing now." He paused. "How can I put this?"<p>

"Full head of hair" he suggested hopefully, fingers hovering just above the keyboard. "And nice, thick, curly blond hair into the bargain. It does make me stand out from you and Callen, you have to admit that Sam."

"I do not have to admit anything on the grounds that I might incriminate myself."

Deeks continued regardless. This had been established as a character trait, so he felt it was fully justified. "Plus, it does mean that I'm better in night ops, as my shiny head won't give me away when the moonlight bounces off my bald bonce. Unlike some people."

"Scruffy hair," Callen said emphatically. "That's what I'd put down. Because it always looks like it needs a good brush. A bit like one of those shaggy mutts you see in the appeals from animal shelters. The ones nobody adopts." It was high time Deeks realised the pecking order of this show, he thought. Coming swanning in here with that disconcerting amount of hair and just letting it do its own thing. It was un-American. There ought to be a law against it. There possible was, in some states. He just had to find out which ones and then make sure Deeks got sent on a mission there.

Kensi sighed and only just managed not to run her fingers through said hair, although it was tempting – very tempting indeed. But she was a professional, after all. "That's deliberate, G. It's called 'bed head' hair and it's actually highly attractive."

"No, it isn't."

"Actually, it is. Women look at Deeks, see his hair and immediately think of bed. Some men probably do as well."

"Come on, Kensi, surely Deeks' hair isn't that bad that they have to go and lie down in a darkened room to get over it."

"Very funny, Sam. Just don't ever take up comedy professionally. Women see my hair and think of bed. More particularly, they think of me in bed. And that makes me happy. It's like I'm providing this valuable service." Deeks looked up at Kensi expectantly. "How about I just put in _'great hair'_? Would that work?" Sooner or later he would have to remind Sam and Callen exactly who Shane had chosen to spend an entire episode in bed, modelling both great hair and bandages with great aplomb.

"It would work for me," she assured him, and indulged herself with just letting her fingers drift over the ends of his hair. "And it certainly works for the girls in hair and make up."

Callen looked nonplussed. It was a difficult look to carry off and could easily be confused with being perplexed or even having an upset stomach, but he managed to walk that thin line with great skill. "We have hair and make-up? We have girls in hair and make-up? Really? Since when? Did you know this, Sam?"

"No." Sam looked perplexed, which was a couple of notches down from nonplussed, but still carried the same general air of confusion. The Creator only allowed one person to look nonplussed per episode. It was one of his little quirks and when Dom had tried to challenge the decision and attempted to sneak in an extra, _unsanctioned_ nonplussed look in one episode, Shane had seen red and made sure that was the last of Dom. Sure enough, a few episodes later and Dom was no more. He was an ex-agent. And now, it was as if the guy had never existed. And they'd got Deeks instead. The remaining cast got the message loud and clear and stuck to the rules. "Are these girls hot?"

"Hot as hell and twice as sweet." Deeks sighed at the memories – and the anticipation.

"And they spend lots of time of Deeks. They even hang a 'do not disturb' sign on the trailer when he's in there."

"How come Deeks gets hair and makeup and we don't? What's he got that we haven't?"

"Hair," Kensi said succinctly. "Hot hair. Put _'insanely great hair'_ down, Deeks. That ought to cover it."

"How come they spend so much time on his hair and it still looks like he's just rolled out of bed?"

Deeks just smirked. "Exactly. Clever, aren't they? And cunning. And they don't even have to use any products, which cuts down on costs." Shane was big on cutting costs where he could, as that way he could afford more insanely big explosions. Shane liked explosions. The rumours that he was a pyromaniac were exactly that – just rumours. Even if he did stand a little too close for comfort when something was rigged to explode.

Sam really was not pleased. "I'm going to have a word with Shane. That's blatant prejudice."

"Unless you can grow some hair overnight, he's just going to laugh at you and send you away with a duster and a can of Pledge to polish that chrome dome. It takes those girls all their time just to get me looking like this."

The gloves were well and truly off now. "You want some distinguishing features to put down on that form Deeks? Okay, I'll give you some. How about that nose of yours for starters?"

"My nose?" He felt the said article. "What's wrong with my nose?"

"It's not your nose, so much as your nostrils," Kensi said ruefully. "They're kind of big. Your nose is quite cute actually, especially from the side, but seen straight on, the extra large nostrils kind of ruin everything."

"They're so big a whole team of cavers could get lost in there. Pity you can't get a nostril reduction operation. It could make all the difference. You just put down _'disconcertingly large nostrils'_ on that spreadsheet of yours. And I'm watching, so don't even try to get out of it." Sam folded his arms implacably and watched as Deeks reluctantly added the entry. "And then we come to the eyes…"

"What's wrong with my eyes?"

"They're different sizes. The left one's bigger than the right one. You're lopsided."

"You're just jealous, because Deeks' eyes are bluer than yours, Callen."

Callen did a double take, having just watched _Arsenic and Old Lace_ for the umpteenth time last night. With Shane, no less. He knew which side his bread was buttered on. "Excuse me? Just because you fell for his baby blues the moment you saw him, Kensi doesn't mean I'm jealous. But it does means you're prejudiced."

"That's because Kensi's got the hots for Deeks." God, Sam loved that line so much. He looked over to where the scriptwriters were standing and gave them a cheery wink, in his inimitable style.

Callen decided to ignore this. He was more than a little hacked off with the way Sam insisted on pulling this scene –stealing manoeuvre. "And my eyes aren't crossed either."

"Neither are mine! Except when I'm looking at things closely." Deeks carefully pulled his chair way back from the laptop, just to avoid any danger of his unfortunate tendency to providing unwitting optical effects.

"That must be so romantic when you're kissing a girl and you see double. And she sees your cross-eyes."

"That's why Kensi keeps her eyes shut when we kiss." Deeks clapped his hand over his mouth at exactly the same moment as Kensi shot him a look to kill. "Can we shoot that scene again?"

"The camera's weren't rolling, you idiot." Kensi had to work very hard not to grind her teeth together, because she didn't want _'stumpy teeth'_ added to her list of characteristics. "I'll see you later," she added in an ominous undertone.

"I knew it!" Sam crowed happily. "Kensi's got the hots for Deeks." Some lines simply couldn't be repeated too often, he thought. It was right up there with _'I think we're going to need a bigger boat'_ and even _'I love the smell of napalm in the morning'_. He wondered if Kensi loved the smell of Deeks in the morning and decided that she probably did.

"And from the looks of things, Deeks has got his rocks off." Callen wondered what the Creator would think about that. Or even if he'd planned it all along. Shane was sneaky like that. Look how poor old Nate had been a series regular in season one and then suddenly, there he was, popping off to nowhere, with only a couple of reappearances in season two. That had to hurt. And hurt the bank balance too. Still, at least he didn't die in a flurry of bullets like that other guy. What was his name again? Dim? No, that wasn't quite right, even if he was rather. Dim, that was. As far as Callen recalled, he'd tried to over-rule Shane on some small matter. Big mistake. He didn't try that one again, mainly because he was dead. What the hell had he been called? Oh yes, Dom. That was it. Funny how quickly he'd been forgotten, Callen mused.

* * *

><p><em>Crack-fic bunny is lying on his back, all four paws in that air and looking very relaxed. I wish I had whatever he has... I wish I had Deeks too.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

"Does Shane know about this kiss?" Sam gave a quick look, but the Almighty Creator was nowhere to be seen. "Because if it's not in his plan, then there's going to be trouble. Big trouble."

They still weren't sure what was going to happen in season three, and the way things were going, any unauthorised liaison could have fatal consequences, especially if it got back to the wrong person. Shane had given them life and he could just as easily take it away again. He was The Creator, after all, and in the world of _NCIS: Los Angeles_, Shane was God. It wasn't always easy working for someone who was omnipotent and who was a good deal of a control freak into the bargain.

"It wasn't just a kiss. And it was more than once," Kensi mumbled, suddenly very interested in her shoes. At least she was wearing a normal pair for once, because it was a real pain having to run in ultra-high heels. Literally. She was convinced she had a bunion developing. Luckily, Deeks had a real thing for giving her a foot massage.

"Don't talk about the kiss. Or the sex," Callen advised. "I know you did once, but you might just get away with it."

He'd made a nasty error during the pilot, which had ticked Shane off big time. And had then resulted in getting Callen caught in a positive barrage of bullets that resembled a WWI dogfight, from which no human could possibly have managed to emerge alive. It was a highly dramatic ending, but one which left Callen's eventual return in serious doubt. Only after a sustained period of crawling to Shane had Callen reappeared unscathed and miraculously healed to star in season 1. He still had callouses on his knees to this day, because when Shane said 'crawl', he meant it quite literally. But everything had turned out splendidly and the fact that Callen should technically be missing one lung, both kidneys, his liver, at least two feet of intestines and his spleen was never referred to again, for such were the powers of The Creator. But it had been a salutary lesson not to overstep the bounds.

"We did it more than once, didn't we Kensi?"

"Shut up, Deeks."

"Nobody will ever find out that you made out – will they Sam?" He glared at his partner, who gave him a despairing look.

"Of course not. Why would you ever think such a thing?" They were supposed to be working in intelligence and he came out with lame plans like this? "There's only you and me who know. Oh -and several million viewers around the world who watch every nuance between those two. That's a fantastic way of keeping a secret. Why not just post it on Wikileaks and be done with it?"

"Don't forget all the fanfic writers. They're sure to find out and then write endless stories about it. And one in particular. You know what's she's like." Deeks buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd read the script for this episode and knew they were all going off on some mission to Prague that had decidedly dire overtones and undercurrents. And Shane had dropped heavy hints about someone getting shot. Things were so not looking good. If word got back to Shane, then Deeks reckoned his chances of getting back for next season were getting smaller by the second. However, on the bright side, viewers will be delighted to know that even after considerable ruffling and tousling, his hair still looked as amazing as ever. No surprise there then.

"We could ask the fans to pretend they wanted G and Kensi to be a couple?" Sam suggested. "That might throw Shane off the scent."

Kensi felt like smacking him. "Only no-one would buy that. No-one in their right minds, that is. The chemistry's all wrong. "

"It's that whole 'creepy uncle' thing again, isn't it?" Deeks mused. "Not quite right for prime time tv, is it? Whereas you and me – that's practically by public demand."

"Yup, the fans really, really want us to be together." Shane had already vetoed the idea of their appearing together at ComicCon, because of this very factor and the voluble demands from the fanbase. Nobody would want to talk about anything else, after all. Nobody who was in full possession of their faculties, that is.

"I still don't see why," Callen said mutinously.

"Either way – I'm dead meat." Kensi really didn't think this was fair that she should be thrown to the wolves like this. Herself and Callen? As if. Why not just put Hetty and Director Vance together and be done with it?

"You're fine. You're the eye-candy. You know that, I know that and Shane knows that. So don't worry. Every show need eye candy, after all." Sam still had very pleasant memories of that scene where he and Kensi had fought hand to hand. The scene where she wore little more than a sports bra and a pair of leggings. No wonder she'd won. How could any man possibly concentrate with all that in front of him? And why were there no stories about him and Kensi having a torrid affair? Mind you, he'd heard there were ones where he was paired with Callen, so maybe he was just better off not knowing?

"Oh come on. I'm so much more than eye candy. I'm smart, and I'm funny and I'm super intelligent. Plus, I do a great line in put-downs. And take downs. Men want me and women want to be me." Actually, Kensi realised that pretty much made her eye candy, with an intellectual edge and a kick-ass attitude. Maybe she was the thinking man's eye candy?

"Deeks wants you too. Look at him – he's practically panting. You could do a lot worse than being eye candy."

"Talking of eyes…" Callen nodded towards Kensi. "Aren't we missing the obvious?"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to point that out. But as it's taken five chapters and twelve pages written in eleven point font on A4 paper, that's actually pretty good going. I'm impressed." Kensi didn't look impressed. She looked pissed off, if truth be told. But then again, she had been wearing her exceptionally tight jeans for a prolonged period of time and some side effects were only to be expected. And mild grumpiness was much better than having to drink gallons of cranberry juice.

"Thanks for the reminder." Deeks typed a rapid notation into his spreadsheet.

Despite herself Kensi couldn't help going over to check the PC. "Sometimes, you surprise me, Deeks. Here I am, thinking you're just a pretty face with a line in crass remarks, and then you go and do something like that." She rumpled his hair affectionately, only making it look even better (although that scarcely seems possible).

"I've got hidden shallows. And acute observation." Deeks looked at the screen with considerable satisfaction. Under Sam's name, a new comment had appeared: _'bad habit of winking salaciously'_. "And I've saved your butt on a few occasions. Your very cute butt."

Callen stifled a chortle when he read that. "You've managed to redeem yourself, Deeks."

"I think you'll find he's done that several times already, Mr Callen." Hetty made one of her miraculous appearances from out of the blue. It was almost as if she had spent years working with David Copperfield and could appear and disappear at will. Then again, it might just have been some clever artistry carried out in the editing suite.

"There was that time you were all on the beach and he was just wearing those board shorts." A singular smile crept across her face. "Why do you think I recruited him in the first place? I'm as partial to a pretty face and a virile body as the next woman." Hetty hadn't actually been required in that scene, but she'd made a point of being down at the beach all day, armed with the brand of sunscreen Deeks preferred, along with her flick-knife that she pretended was a letter opener. It had proven most effective in keeping several would-be admirers out of the way so that she had an unobstructed view of the detective and his attractive beachwear.

"Don't forget the time he stripped down to his boxers after the prison break." It had only been by exercising the greatest possible restraint that Kensi had not flung herself bodily into his arms – at least while the cameras were still running. Once the scene was over, he was fair game. Neither Deeks or the boxer shorts had quite been the same after her full-frontal assault.

Nell joined the throng. "Or how about the time Deeks just wore those blue scrub pants and some bandages outside the hospital?" She, Hetty and Kensi all sighed in unison.

"Man whore."

"I only do what the script says. And Shane approves the scripts. What's so wrong with some wholly gratuitous titillation? Remember, it's in my character profile that I'm tanned and muscley." Deeks quickly added these factors into his details in the spreadsheet."Anyway, I don't remember you and Sam objecting to those CHiPs uniforms. The ones with the Lycra pants. And don't think we didn't all notice the shuttlecock you smuggled in there."

"And how unsubtle a metaphor were those bikes?" Kensi looked at them incredulously. "Oh, come on guys- -give me a break. You do know what a metaphor is, don't you?"

"We all left high school a long time ago. I think." Sam had a vague memory of English lessons, but then his backstory was that he'd been a SEAL and in that line of work book learning was considerably less important that the ability to clench a knife between your teeth, fill out a t-shirt and look fierce, all at the same time.

Deeks was almost certain he was the only team member to have gone to college. "I was a lawyer. We just need to know how to lie with aplomb and spout the odd bit of Latin in an attempt to look smart. Oh – and we need to know how to charge huge fees and wear cool suits."

"That'll be why you're not practising law then. You failed the taste test – the good taste test."

"I've got good taste. I've got the hots for Kensi after all."

They turned in unison to look at Callen, who had remained suspiciously quiet throughout this exchange. "Don't look at me," he protested. "My background hasn't yet been revealed." It was a fair bet that he'd spent some time in Romania though. Why else go to all this careful scene setting? Then again, Shane might just decide Callen was the ward of some millionaire and had spent his formative years in a mansion. You just never knew. There was even a very remote chance he might get to make out with Kensi, although Callen was none too sanguine about that. "For all we know, I could be the love child of JD Salinger and Joan Baez."

There was a long silence as everyone contemplated this somewhat unlikely possibility. NCIS was not exactly noted for its forays into twentieth century literature and folk singers with a social conscience, after all.

"Naw. Can you imagine the amount of red tape Shane would have to go through to get that approved? And the money to get them to sign releases. And copyright issues. We might be limited to one explosion every two shows and he won't like that."

"I don't know." Hetty felt it prudent to add in a word of caution. "This is Shane we're talking about. Anything is possible. Remember, he created this whole world and all of us here."

She was only too aware of a nasty rumour going around that she was about to be shot and felt it best to be suitably obsequious where the Creator was concerned. Which was a rather more erudite way of crawling, that had the added benefit of being considerably less painful and demeaning than actually scrabbling about on all fours into the bargain. Being shot was all very well, in fact in this line of work it had to be regarded as an occupational hazard and it did afford some splendid opportunities for really top-notch acting. Then again, bullets were sometimes being fatal. Like that young chap from the first season. The one who'd come back briefly after a long period of absence, during which nobody, least of all the viewers, had missed him. There he was, making a great re-entry, only to be shot dead. And after that, he was conveniently forgotten about. Mind you, his card had been marked when Shane had decreed he wasn't attracting the right viewer demographic – or any significant demographic at all.

Deeks was back to looking at Kensi. He did this quite a lot, as attentive viewers can testify. "Anyway, I like your eyes. They're unique." It was about time they all got back to the subject in hand, he thought. With any luck, this particular segment would come after a commercial break and the editing boys and girls could put in one of those handy visual _aide memoires_ that jogged the viewers' recollections by way of a series of black and white photos accompanied by the sound of a camera motor drive.

"She's got one's brown eye and one black eye. You can't get more distinctive than that. You put that in your little file, why don't you?"

"It's a birthmark, right? A little touch of God." After delivering this exceptionally corny line, Deeks shot a despairing look at the scriptwriter, who merely shrugged.

"It's real bugger to light her though." A disembodied voice floated down from the lighting rig. "Especially when we use that blue light in Ops. She needs a whole special set of lights just to compensate."

"Aw, come on. She's worth it." Deeks looked at Sam and Callen. "Come on – that was your cue. Just because this is the last episode of the season, there' no need to get sloppy now."

"You never know when Shane might just decide to come down from on high," Kensi reminded them. "And grace us with his presence. So watch what you're saying." Of course, it was rumoured that Shane was all-seeing, in addition to being all-powerful and just knew things by osmosis.


	6. Chapter 6

_Many thanks to my dear friend phillydi, who gave me a certain line that I just had to include in this installment!_

_Now, it has been suggested that the revered Mr Shane Brennan KCMG (God Calls Me God) would rather enjoy this piece of madness. I couldn't possibly comment... But I am avaiable to fly out to the set at a moment's notice._

* * *

><p>"You're amazing, Kensi," Callen said dutifully. Heck, there was no sense in being needlessly reckless. Fair enough, Shane had said that a major story-arc would revolve around Callen and his parentage, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn't end in a nasty (and painful) death. His nasty death. Callen had a bad feeling about this, not least because it would draw viewers in in their droves. There was no sense in being reckless and needlessly antagonising The Creator – who giveth and could most easily take away again. He nudged Sam. "Come on."<p>

Sam knew his place. He had a back-story that was full of glory, and Shane had allowed him to drop a few tantalising hints as to his private life that eager viewers seized on with delight, but surely there was a lot more to be said about him? Clearly, it was in Sam's best interest to make sure that he stayed around for as long as possible in order for events to play out and the full details of his life be allowed to emerge. There had to be at least two episodes worth of story lines in there, he reckoned. But that meant he had to stay alive. And staying alive was dependant on Shane.

"You are so worth it, Kensi," he opined, in a dead-pan monotone. Hey, they could redub him afterwards. Just to make his position perfectly clear, Sam added a knowing wink, complete with regulation twinkle, in the full and certain knowledge this would hack Callen off big time. Because, when it came right down to it, Callen thought he was Shane's favourite - the blue-eyed boy. Well, Deeks had blue eyes too. Really big blue eyes, that were certainly much sparklier than Callen's, especially if they happened to be looking at Kensi. Plus, Deeks could do that whole "soulful puppy" look. So what if they had a slight tendency to cross over at inopportune times, because they were really good eyes, especially when they filmed in Ops. You could almost hear the female viewers sighing in unison as their ovaries spontaneously exploded with joy.

"Thank you, boys." Kensi nudged Deeks. "Go on then, put my black eye onto your little list."

"I'm not putting 'black eye' down. That makes it sound like you've been in a fight." He drummed his fingers lightly on the table and Nell gave a small moan. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing," she whimpered. "It's just… your hands."

"What about them?" Deeks extended his fingers out in front of him and stared hard. "There's two of them. They're the same size. No bits missing or bent. They're just hands."

"Uh uh." Nell shook her hand. "I love your hands. They're really sexy. Long, sensitive fingers. They make me imagine them doing all sorts of things. You should put them down too."

"You cannot have 'hot hands'. No way." Sam shook his head for added emphasis, or the benefit of viewers with less than stellar hearing who might otherwise have missed this crucial point.

"Well, _you_ can't, Sam. That's true. Your hands are a bit like a bunch of sausages. But Deeks does. And when he puts on the black latex gloves…" Nell gulped convulsively. "Excuse me. I think I'll just go lie down in a darkened room for a bit." She staggered off-screen, fanning herself vigorously.

Kensi stifled a chortle. And then looked at Deeks, who was blushing deeply. "You're embarrassed. Admit it. And don't even bother trying to denying, because you're bright red."

"So I have an ivory, Nordic complexion? Sue me. It's okay for you, with your olive tones. You can get away with these things."

"I can sympathise," Callen said, being possessed of a Celtic fairness that had an unfortunate habit of going red in the sun. This was undoubtedly the reason that the Celts had failed to colonise anywhere except the colder, less sunny climes of the world, because the bright light had them all scuttling for cover and reaching for the sunscreen. Life had improved immensely for the Celts since the invention of factor 50 sunscreen. Until then, it had been almost impossible to wage war when your whole skin felt as if it was on fire and one size too small into the bargain, hence the Celtic strongholds in the cold, wet, miserable parts of the world like Scotland and Ireland.

They all turned to look at Sam, who held up his hands in protest. "Don't even think about going there. I'm from Brooklyn, remember?" Quite why Shane had insisted on this when he was actually from Queens was beyond him.

"How about I put down 'unusual eyes'? Would that work?" Deeks was desperate to get off the subject of his hands.

"Seems fair enough. And don't forget to add 'hot hands' in your column."

"That makes it sound like they're on fire or something."

"I bet Nell would feel your hands were on fire if they were on her," Callen said slyly. "Not to mention all those ladies out there." He gave a nod towards the camera. If _Moonlighting_ could break the 'fourth wall', then there was no reason he couldn't follow in their illustrious footsteps. Just look what had happened to Bruce Willis after that show – the guy had gone stratospheric. Of course, things hadn't worked out quite so well for Cybill Shepherd, but then you couldn't have everything. And Callen didn't want all that much – mainly he wanted a name. A proper name. Because it was getting rather ridiculous now.

The premise of the 'man with no name' was well established in cinema, giving a character an air of mystery and intrigue. Callen had always thought this contrasted rather well with his own wholesome looks. But to suggest that he actually had no name at all was clearly ludicrous. How the heck would he have been able to get a driving license, far less a passport without a name? Callen knew about bureaucracy, and how insistent they were on being able to identify yourself beyond all doubt, and just trotting up there with only a surname was not going to cut the mustard. Of course, Shane was Australian, and being contemptuous of authority was somewhat of a national characteristic. Mind you, it did mean that he was literally a 'G Man', which was actually rather cool, even if it was highly unlikely that this had ever occurred to Shane. The best Callen could hope for was that his real name was something unoffensive and was not about to be revealed as something really lame like Gervaise, or Gaston or, God help him, even Gilbert. But one never knew what was going on in Shane's mind, mainly because he rarely deigned to speak to mere mortals. And should you ever be lucky enough to be ushered into The Presence, then a lackey would command you not to look at Shane directly and to only speak when spoken to.

"Oy! Callen. Mr Monochrome. We're talking to you."

Callen was jerked out of his reverie. "What did you call me?"

"Mr Monochrome. Mr 'I love navy blue'. You're not going to deny that, are you?"

Sam was really hitting below the belt now. It had long been a bone of contention with Callen that his wardrobe consisted in the main of various neutral tones, specialising in dark blue, black and grey. While Sam got to wear that amazing bright red shirt that instantly drew the viewers' eyes to him. "At least I don't sneak my clothes home and then boil wash them so they're obscenely tight," he parried. "Vanity, thy name is Sam."

"If you've got it, flaunt it," Sam smirked happily. "And I've got it. In spades. And bucketfuls. You want to deny that I've got the biggest muscles?"

Kensi allowed herself a small smile. "It depends which muscles you're talking about." Her eyes darted towards Deeks, who pretended to be very busy editing his spreadsheet and fooled absolutely nobody.

* * *

><p><em>Breaking the fourth wall refers to when fictional characters reveal they are conscious of the fact they are fictional and adress the audience directly. Moonlighting made a speciality of doing this, and this story is doing its best to demolish that wall completely!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

"I think we're missing something really obvious," Callen said. At this rate, the show was going to lose all its sponsors if this sort of smut continued.

Kensi shot him an incredulous look. "You might be, Callen – but I can assure you, I'm not. And neither are the female viewers. And quite possibly some of the male viewers too."

It was at this point that Deeks dropped a pencil accidentally-on-purpose and crawled beneath the desk, where he judged it safest to remain. This conversation was going places he would really rather it didn't. Not in public, anyway. It was an entirely different matter when he and Kensi were alone together, of course.

"What?" Kensi had clocked the incredulous looks Callen and Sam were shooting her. "I was only stating the obvious. You go ask the girls in Wardrobe – the ones who check his pants out for the right fit. The right, tight fit."

"Excuse me? I'm still here, you know. And I can hear every word you're saying."

"All I'm saying is that it's nice not to be the only one dressed in revealing clothes, that's all."

"Kensi," Callen said patiently, "I was talking about tattoos. Sam's tattoos, to be exact. Not the fit of Deeks' pants. Even if you can tell which side he dresses to."

"That is seriously creepy, Callen. You've been checking me out?" Deeks crawled back out from underneath the desk, butt first, in a pair of very well-fitting jeans. Those girls in Wardrobe certainly knew what they were doing, even if they took a really long time in doing it. But then some things can't be rushed.

"I've stood beside you in the mens' room often enough."

"Oh dear God in heaven. You're not supposed to look, Callen. You're supposed to stare straight ahead. Didn't your mother teach you anything?" Deeks was very tempted to crawl back to safety once again. And he was quite certain he was never going to pee anywhere near Callen again. Ever.

"Guess not. That lesson must have got lost somewhere in one of the moves between foster homes." He looked at Sam. "He's having me on, right? Everyone looks – don't they?"

"He's not having you on, G. I always kind of meant to mention it to you, but I just thought you liked me. Really liked me, if you get my drift."

"Oh God." Shane was going to freak when he saw rushes for this particular segment, Callen realised. There was no way this would make it past the network censors. Not to mention the fact he probably had the worst possible reputation in NCIS: Callen – the man who looks.

Kensi felt quite sorry for Callen's obvious shock and decided it was prudent to change the subject. "Anyway, about Sam's tattoos – that a good point. They've got to be the classic distinguishing feature. Put them down, Deeks. Tribal armband on left arm. Big funny one on right arm."

"I'm almost certain I asked for a microphone, but it didn't quite turn out the way I imagined it." Sam extended his arm and surveyed it curiously.

"That's modern art for you – you can never tell what it's meant to be." Deeks joined Sam in studying the inkwork. "That had to have hurt."

"It was agony. I cried like a baby. And when they gave me the bill, I cried even more. Man, it's an expensive business getting inked. But I managed to persuade him to give me a discount. On account of the fact I was a lot bigger than he was." It had to be said that Sam was a lot bigger than most people.

"Don't forget the one on the back of your leg. Those Japanese characters. Exactly what do they say?" Deeks looked closely, totally forgetting that this made his eyes cross, and started to smile.

"It's personal," Sam said defensively.

Deeks shook his head. "No it's not."

"If I say 'it's personal', then it is personal. Get it?"

"That's not what it says though."

"The meaning is private. Alright?"

"Fair enough. I just can't work out why you've got 'wash dark colours separately' written in Japanese on your leg. But if that's what floats your boat, then fair enough."

"I am going to kill that guy. I knew I shouldn't have gone back after he did my sleeve for such a good price." Sam tried to salvage what little was left of his pride by storming off the set.

"I didn't know you read Japanese characters, Deeks."

Deeks grinned joyfully. "Who said that I do?"

"You are in big trouble," Callen warned. "Shane isn't going to be pleased when he finds out Sam's gone AWOL. This scene was written for four leads, and now there's only three."

"Aw, Shane will be cool with it."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than there was an almighty bang and a great puff of white smoke bellowed forth.

"We've never had an explosion inside the Mission before," Kensi observed. "And I'm sure this wasn't on the shooting script for today. You reckon the special effects guys just got bored or something?" She peered anxiously through the haze, because it looked as if someone – or something – was coming towards them.

* * *

><p><em>Just in case anyone is wondering: Deeks dresses to the left. Not that I was looking or anything like that. Of course not. i'm a respectable lady in my prime. And you can go tell that one to the Marines. I do have impeccable taste though.<em>


	8. Chapter 8

"Get back to work, you load of shirkers. Remember: I giveth and I can damn well taketh away again!" the bearded figure boomed.

The crew genuflected reflexively and obediently chorused "Blessed be the name of Shane." And then scuttled off out of sight. They knew their place.

"Funny," Deeks said. "I never thought God would have an Australian accent. I'd always thought he'd sound more like Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments."

"That was Moses. Not God."

"Mr Picky today, aren't we?"

Kensi studied The Creator curiously. "He's a lot shorter than I thought he would be." She'd never actually seen Shane in the flesh before, as he rarely granted audiences to mere mortals. Consequently, she had begun to wonder if he was just a figment of everyone's imagination. This visitation proved she was wrong, in the same way as the Babel Fish proved that God (the other one) didn't exist. However, it was rather disappointing to see that he didn't wear long flowing robes though. "But at least he's got a beard. That's something, I suppose."

"And at least his beard doesn't have bald patches in it." Callen looked pointedly at Deeks, who immediately clapped his hand over the right side of his neck.

"It's not a bald patch. It's just not quite as full as the rest, that's all. Not unlike that bare spot just at the crown of your head, Callen."

"What is it with you guys and razors?" Shane bellowed. "Never heard of them?"

"Tribute to you," Deeks said smoothly. "Sir."

"Crawler," said a voice that sounded very like Callen's, only his lips didn't move. Deeks wondered if being a ventriloquist was another of the many and varied, not to mention implausible, aliases Callen kept referring to in a casually offhand way that fooled absolutely nobody.

"You're the blond one all the sheilas fancy," Shane said, looking at Deeks. "No accounting for taste, but there you go. The viewing figures don't lie after all." He pointed at Kensi. "And you're the female totty that kicks arse. Which is fair dinkum. You do have a nice arse. You're a pair of spunks, you are." Finally, he turned to look at Callen. "Remind me who you are again?"

"Callen. G Callen. No first name. We have met before. I'm the star of the show – remember?"

"Of course I remember. You're the short one. You stand out like a shag on a rock." Shane was somewhat blunt, but then he believed in speaking the truth – the unvarnished truth. Why beat about the bush? They had an awful lot of bush in Australia, after all. You could be out there in the outback for centuries, beating around aimlessly and what would be the point in that? No-one would appreciate all your hard work, except the odd kangaroo or wombat, and as neither species was exactly renowned for watching television or for their spending power they were of no interest to Shane. "And there's another one, isn't there? Or did I kill him off?" Shane looked around the set. "No, there was definitely another one. I remember that. He wanted to wear a hat, but I soon stopped that nonsense. Built like the proverbial dunny, he was."

Nobody quite liked to ask exactly which proverb he was referring to and decided the phrase probably lost something in translation.

"He's called Sam and he's just a bit overawed," Deeks lied smoothly. "He's really very shy, you know. And modest."

Kensi nearly choked at that. Sam was many things, but modest was not one of them. He'd made blowing his own trumpet into somewhat of a speciality.

Shane frowned. "I don't remember writing that into the character description. Still, it could work. Big guy, afraid of his own shadow. Contradiction in terms." He rubbed his beard reflectively. "That could work. Something completely different. Maybe he could be a functional mute in season three?" And it would certainly help to keep the costs down if the chap wasn't speaking. He could save a fortune there.

"Brilliant idea!" Callen seized upon the fact that this would undoubtedly mean more lines for himself and, correspondingly more screen time. Which was only befitting, seeing as he was the star of the show. This would put it beyond all doubt.

"You – blond boy." When you were in as exalted a position as Shane, little things like names didn't matter. "That list of yours – let me see it." Shane really did know everything, it seemed.

Deeks turned the laptop around meekly and The Creator scanned the screen. A rare smile crept across his face and it was as if the sun was suddenly shining. Then again, it might have been one of the lighting guys switching on a spotlight to illuminate him properly.

"Mmm. Looks like those strides are a hit with the ladies. Might have to get you into a pair of budgie smugglers next season."

"Sorry?" Deeks wasn't sure if this was very good, or very bad indeed and looked to Callen for help.

"Strewth – don't any of you speak 'Strine?" Shane enjoyed playing the stereo typical Australian as much as the next man, especially if it meant confusing the Yanks. He actually spoke the purest Queen's English, and merely affected his colourful slang to throw people.

"She speaks Spanish and Portuguese, Sam speaks Arabic and I speak several Eastern European languages, plus French and German."

"What about surfer boy?"

"He just speaks gibberish most of the time."

* * *

><p><em>budgie-smugglers = Speedoes. So-called for obvious reasons.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

"Maybe we could do a musical episode?" Shane pondered out loud, in the way the deities have. "That could be interesting. Maybe even a topless musical episode?" He looked at Deeks who promptly peeled off his shirt. There was a loud thud as the script girl collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint. "Nothing wrong with giving the audience what they want." Shane's phone pinged as it received an incoming text message. "And it seems the audience also wants to see you in a wet-suit, surfer dude."

"I can do a wetsuit." Deeks knew this would display his magnificent physique to great advantage and flexed his muscles, just because he could. It sounded as if a low rumble of thunder greeted this display, but it was only all the other female crew members keeling over with delight. Even Shane wasn't that good that he could conjure up atmospheric effects at a whim. Not unless the sound department had been primed well in advance.

"And I can help him take it off," Kensi volunteered nobly, being a generous and selfless soul, who definitely knew which side her bread was buttered on. "That was you get two for one – Deeks in tight neopryne and shirtless Deeks." She could definitely see the attraction in that.

"I like that. I like that a lot." Shane thought this girl was definitely going places. Notonly did she have great ideas, she was into saving money too. What could be better? These explosions didn't come cheaply after all – but they were so darned good, they were worth it.

"Me too." Deeks was especially keen on the idea of Kensi peeling his wetsuit off very slowly indeed. Maybe using her teeth?

"And I can do the lead vocals in a musical episode." Sam strode back onto the set in a tearing rage, having discovered that Callen was strongly in favour of his partner becoming totally speechless. Like that was going to happen any time he was still breathing

Shane looked at him curiously, almost sure the man was familiar. "Got any experience in that department, mate? Handy with a wobble board, are you?"

"You want me to sing while standing on a wobble board?" Sam knew Australians had a reputation for being slightly eccentric, but Shane was taking this to new levels.

"You don't stand on a wobble board – you play it." He clocked the blank expressions. "Like Rolf Harris? The Aussie cultural icon? _Jake The Peg_? _Two Little Boys_? _Tie Me Kangaroo Down_?" The blank expressions changed to ones of complete and utter befuddlement. "Whoever said Australians lack culture clearly never met a Yank. You're worse than the Poms. Let me just say that you haven't lived until you've heard Rolf sing _Stairway to Heaven_."

"I can sing," Sam informed him. "I'm quite well known for my singing, actually."

"If you call it singing." Callen could see all his great plans disappearing down the plughole. Unless… "And exactly where do you see me in this episode, Shane?" he asked hopefully, praying the answer would be 'front and centre'.

"Standing on a box, so you're at eye level with the rest of us?" Sam was still feeling sore.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Shortie. I'm only throwing ideas around. For all you know, you might not even make it back from Prague." Maybe the little guy could get caught up in an explosion? You wouldn't need too much explosive, given his size – or lack thereof. Drama and economy in the same package – what could be better?

Just the mere mention of the word 'Prague' was enough to set the fear of God (or even Shane himself) into the hearts of the most hardened NCIS operative. There were all sorts of unpleasant rumours flying around that someone was going to have a nasty accident over there. And who could shake off the unpleasant memory of the fact that Shane was not averse to suddenly dumping a major character unceremoniously? There was poor Nate, currently residing in the limbo politely referred to as "resting", although collecting unemployment benefit could hardly be said to be relaxing and was in fact a rather stressful state of affairs. And then there was that chap from season one. The one who hadn't lasted very long. He'd had a dramatic ending though, and was thus more memorable in death than he had ever been in life. Since his departure, the guy appeared to have dropped off the planet. It was a salutary lesson not to mess with The Creator. And of course there was Macy, star of the pilot, who disappeared only to turn up dead somewhere near Washington, in an entirely different show. One they wren't allowed to talk about because of a little legal difficulty.

"I do like the idea of beach scenes." Shane was thinking aloud once more. CBS had cottoned on to this and had a flunkey follow him around with a notepad at all times, just in case the great man spouted a pearl of great promise. It was a system which worked well, apart from the time when the hapless minion had attempted to follow Shane into the toilet stall. The language on that occasion had been rather choice. He looked at Kensi and smiled. "Maybe we should have you on a beach show?"

"I can do beaches." Kensi made sure her ears were well-covered by her hair and fluttered her eyelashes becomingly.

"Hawaii Five 0!" Shane spoke in tones similar to those of Archimedes upon discovering the principle that an object will displace its own volume in water. "I feel a cross-over coming on!" The network loved cross-overs, as an excellent way of increasing viewing figures. Shane realised that if he delivered the goods, he might get a bigger budget. And a bigger budget meant bigger explosions.

"I can do Hawaii," Kensi informed him sweetly, and made a mental note to get one of those Kevlar vests out of the props cupboard, to protect her from the knives that were already being aimed at her back from her colleagues.


	10. Chapter 10

"I can do Hawaii too," Deeks said quickly, getting in a nano-second before Callen. "In a wetsuit. And on a surfboard."

"Show-off." Callen had once appeared in a wetsuit, but that seemed to have passed the fans by. Mainly because he'd looked a good deal like a seal in it. Not a Navy SEAL, just a seal. Or maybe it was a sealion?

"You get all the flashy cars. Why shouldn't I get Hawaii? Look how long it took for me to get the cool black, extra-large watch." That had really rankled with Deeks, even if they did look something you'd give to a first grader.

"You're not an agent," Sam reminded him. "Remember?"

"I never get to go abroad," Deeks said disconsolately. This was a major new development for NCIS: Los Angeles, and a rather risky move. So far they'd concentrated on being brave and resourceful, with only occasional forays into wistfulness and brief interludes of minor angst, but Shane had gone out on a limb and decreed that disconsolate was the way to go. Along with explosions, of course. That went without saying. "You and Callen get to go abroad all the time." He was pushing disconsolate for all it was worth.

Sam gave him a pitying look. It was not dissimilar to the one Mr T used just before he uttered the immortal phrase 'fool', only without with the jewellery or the Mohawk. If Deeks could do disconsolate, then he could do the A-Team. "It's not really abroad, Deeks. It's just pretend-abroad. We never actually leave California."

"Hawaii's not abroad either. And I still want to go there."

"So do I." Kensi eyeballed him. That was infinitely preferable to her other method of disarming men, which was to crash her knee in their balls, so Deeks counted himself lucky. Mind you, he knew that Kensi wanted him in full working order for later on. "And Shane asked me first."

"Maybe Shane changed his mind?"

"Maybe you should all remember you're about to go to Prague? And you might not all come back?" Shane longed for the good old days, when gods had gaily flung thunderbolts all around the place. They must have made a really satisfyingly loud bang when they landed, he thought.

"How about the plane blows up on the way back from Hawaii?" Callen thought this was a masterstroke – Shane would get his cross-over episode and a really huge explosion into the bargain.

"How about you shut up?" Kensi flexed her knee in a menacing fashion.

"Do any of you remember the read-through we had for this episode?" Shane asked. "The one with the script? Well, how about sticking to it, alright?" He'd paid good money for that script.

"Improvisation can be good."

"It can be. But this isn't. So get back to work and stick to the lines."

Deeks held out his hand. "Can I have my list back, please?"

"In a minute." Shane studied it carefully. "Okay, I'll do you a deal. First one to spot the glaring omission gets to go to Hawaii."

In an instant they were all peering at the screen.

"How about Kensi's wonderful smile?" she suggested modestly.

"It's crooked," Sam reminded her. "How about my chicken-pox scar, next to my nose?"

Shane favoured him with a smile. "Close, but that's not going to put a shrimp on the barbie."

"It has to be the leading man's effortless charm and the fact he should be with Kensi?" Callen looked at them. "Come on, you know there are stories about that. Don't deny it."

"That's called wishful thinking, remember? And don't forget there's also stories about you and me getting it on, G. And we really don't want to go there, do we?" Sam felt ever so slightly sick at the very prospect. If he was going to have man-love with anyone, Deeks was so much more his type.

Deeks grinned at him. "I don't know. All those times Callen's checked you out at the urinals have to count for something, don't they?" He concentrated on the list. "It's either Hetty's ubiquitous pants suits or my sex appeal."

"You're all useless. Not even close. Call yourself agents?" It wasn't too late to do some wholescale recasting, was it?

"Technically, I'm not an agent. Not yet."

"Technically, we're fictional characters, Deeks. Or should I say 'Eric Christian'? And exactly why do you have two names, by the way?"

"One name wasn't enough. I'm so good they named me twice."

Shane glared at Callen. "You might be fictional, mate, but I'm bloody real. And I'm the boss around here." There was no arguing with that. Not if you fancied keeping your kneecaps where they belonged. "Okay – you all give up, do you? You lot have the observational skills of a dingo on crack."

* * *

><p><em>Anyone want to hazard a guess about what's missing?<em>


	11. Chapter 11

"It's a lot easier to sound intelligent when you have a script," Callen pointed out coldly. As team leader, he felt he had to defend their integrity.

"It's a lot easier to sound intelligent if you actually are intelligent," Shane countered. "Come on, think about it."

Sam felt it was time to point out one or two things. "We normally have Eric putting up lots of cool images onscreen. And then Nell usually tells us something technical and that lets us make the connection. And it also lets the sponsors get screen-time for their products. Not to mention looking really cutting edge."

"You really want me to put up a picture of Deeks' crossing his eyes – again? Or how about a montage of you doing that little wink to camera - you know, the one you reckon I've never noticed, Sam?" Shane had never been too bothered about making friends. Being omnipotent was enough for him – after all, it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. What was wrong with ruling by fear? Besides which, those companies paid jolly well for the privilege of having their products onscreen. Plus, they were integral to the hip look of the programme. He could probably do without these four rather annoying people, but the gadgets were a must and were completely non-negotiable.

"That's mean," Kensi said.

"So sue me."

"You mean like Mr Bellisario is suing CBS?" Deeks asked innocently. He was highly gratified to see Shane take a small step backwards. "Only we don't talk about that, do we?"

"Do you know how pleased I am with the ratings for this season?" Shane said, seemingly a propos of nothing.

"No, but if you hum it, we'll do our best to join in." Deeks ducked just in time as Sam playfully threw a chair at his head. "Oh come on – he asked for it."

"How about the fact that Sam and Callen get the really cool cars and we don't?" Kensi suggested. That really rankled.

"You look good enough without any window-dressing," Shane said generously. "And I'm working on it." Not very hard, but I am working on it. In my spare time. In between counting all my lovely money and working out how to cram in even more explosions.

Kensi smiled at him. "Work harder," she advised. "And give us a clue."

"A clue?"

"Gesundheit," Deeks said automatically. So it was an old joke? So what. He believed in recycling. And so did Shane – it was cheaper.

"Give us a hint – so we can work out what we're missing."

"We're missing that guy from the first season," Sam said slowly. "Remember him?"

Blank looks greeted this statement.

"Not really," Kensi admitted.

"He was your partner – I think."

"Honestly? I had a partner before Deeks? What happened to him?" Deeks had spoiled her for all other men, after all.

"He died," Shane said shortly.

"I'm walking in dead men's shoes? Thanks a lot." Knowing his luck (homicidal father, ex-partner getting blown up, ex-girlfriend putting a hit out on his best friend) the guy probably had athlete's foot. Or verrucas. Or both.

"It's nothing to do with him. Try again."

"It's something to do with us? With all of us?"

Shane nodded. "Think back to the pilot."

"It was a cross-over," Callen said slowly. "With NCIS."

Shane glared at him. "Don't say that again. You never know who might be listening. Mr Bellisario is very well-connected." He just wished that pesky lawsuit would go away because it was a trifle embarrassing.

"Callen got shot at the end," Kensi remembered.

"And we have a winner!" Shane looked upwards and Eric dutifully blew an alpenhorn that just happened to be nestling unobtrusively on the balcony in exactly the way that nine-foot long musical instruments don't.

"You want to explain that? You know, sort of like the trailer for the second instalment of a two-part episode?" Callen was on a roll. He took a deep breath and started:

"Last week on NCIS: Los Angeles: daring, handsome and debonair team leader G Callen, fearlessly led his team…" He looked over to Sam.

"… of highly skilled agents, including ex-navy SEAL Sam Hannah – tall, dark and deadly, with a nice line in depreciating wit…"

Kensi didn't miss a beat. "… and not forgetting Kensi Blye, possibly the hottest and coolest agent ever to be poured into a pair of skinny jeans…"

"How about I just take my shirt off and pout?" Deeks offered.

"How about you take your pants off too?" Kensi suggested sweetly. "That'll do wonders for the viewing figures."

Shane looked at his hapless flunky. "Make a note of that."

"I still don't understand." Deeks looked at the others. "Tell me I'm not alone?"

"You can't be hot and smart," Sam said kindly.

Kensi looked at him. "I can. It's not a problem."

"Just stereotype me as the dumb blond, why don't you?"

"See you asked so nicely,Deeks, I will."

"How about you explain it to me then, Ms Tight-Fitting Smarty Pants?" Deeks invited. "Exactly how does Callen getting shot have anything to do with distinguishing features?"


	12. Chapter 12

_Kudos to **livingandthriving** for guessing correctly!_

_Sad to say, this is the last chapter... and with a shameless self-insertion to boot. A round dozen chapters of insanity. It has been suggested on occasion that I'm a trifle bloodthirsty - well, I think the following will scotch that little rumour once and for all. No actors or NCIS: Los Angeles characters were harmed in this story and all finished without a single mark upon them. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"Because he was shot full of more holes than a leaky colander. But look – not a mark on him." Kensi grabbed hold of Callen's shirt and yanked it up to his neck. "Look – completely blemish-free."<p>

Callen grabbed his shirt and pulled it back down again. "Excuse me? I feel violated now. And I thought it was agreed we leave the topless shots and gratuitous nudity to Deeks?"

"He does do it very well," Shane conceded. "You've probably got a point there, mate. We can cut that bit out in the editing suite if you want and cut to a flashback." Shane liked flashbacks, he liked them a lot. It saved money on having to get one of script-writer chappies write some convoluted dialogue that only confused the less-able viewers, plus it also saved money by being able to reuse existing footage. A double whammy in other words and one that mean he had some spare cash to play around with, and maybe squeeze in an extra explosion. Which was always good. You simply couldn't have too many explosions.

"I should have a couple of scars too," Deeks realised. He pulled off his shirt and gazed down at his torso curiously. "From that episode where I was shot and got to lie in bed all the time. Nope, not a trace."

"Just as well," Kensi said dreamily. "We don't want anything marring perfection, do we? You really do have a body like a Grecian god."

"Please tell me you'll edit that bit out as well?" Sam pleaded.

"I'm only saying what all the female viewers are thinking."

"There was that time I was sprayed with Mace," Deeks remembered. "Or was it pepper spray? Anyway, you could practically see me heal on screen. It was like I'd become Captain Scarlet all of a sudden. You know – the guy who was indestructible, no matter how often the Mysterons tried to kill him?"

"That wasn't a guy, that was a puppet," Callen said in long-suffering tones.

"Really? Are you sure? Not that it matters. But I do seem to be a bit accident prone."

"What do you mean?" Shane eyed him beadily. He just hoped this young man wasn't going to be asking for Workers Comp. He already had too many names for comfort, although he wasn't as bad as the big one, who went by one series of names in the credits, but was known as something completely different off-screen. What was wrong with these people? Not that Shane had ever said anything about it, because they were both bigger than him. Especially the bald one. But then he was bigger than everyone.

"In these stories people write about us. Particularly Maxie Kay. She's the worst."

"Or the best. She lets us have lots and lots of exciting adult encounters" (Kensi knew better than to say 'sex' on prime time tv) "which is really pretty great. We're amazing together. So what's a few maims along the way?"

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one continually getting maimed."

"She maims him?" Shane wondered if this Maxie Kay person could be sued for damage to personal property. Or maybe a charge of reckless maiming or even character endganerment could be brought against her? He'd have to get his lawyers to look into it. Once they were finished with that other pesky little matter. Maybe a timely explosion could sort that out once and for all?

"Maxie Kay maims all of us," Sam amplified. "She's an equal opportunities maimer. But mainly she maims Deeks. She says that's because he maims so beautifully. Maxie's even maimed Hetty." As the said scribe had given him a hot wife and a cute kid, with another one on the way, Sam was rather fond of the old dear. Plus, thus far he'd come off quite lightly and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardise that particular state of affairs.

"Has she got a suicide wish or something?" Shane sat down. Even he hadn't dared to do that. Although, now he thought about it, maybe he could write something maim-wise for Hetty into the opening episode for season three?

"She maimed me twice," Hetty said. "She's a brave lady. Either that or she's very stupid."

Shane wondered if he could get away with maiming Hetty twice, but decided not to push his luck. One really good maim would probably suffice. And it would be cheaper. "So what has this woman done to you?" he asked Kensi.

"I got stabbed and I had a miscarriage. Only the two weren't connected. Oh, and I've had loads of emotional angst."

"I got shot in the foot and I was knocked out," Sam volunteered.

"I had a detached retina, smoke inhalation and then I bit a guy's penis." While not strictly a maim, it had taken Callen a considerable amount of time to get over that particular indignity. He was still receiving counselling for that particular incident.

"And she broke Eric's nose and jaw." Maxie Kay had also made him gay, but Eric had been paying everyone bribe money not to mention that. He still had high hopes that Shane might allow him a little dalliance with Nell. Not to mention allowing him to wear long pants once in a while.

"Strewth." Even Shane was impressed. "Is she Australian?"

"No, much worse than that: she's Scottish. But don't hold that against her."

"What exactly has she done to you then?"

"Well, she's stabbed me at least twice, had me beaten up (nearly lost my spleen there), broken my fingers, shot me in the arm – and then I nearly lost it, due to blood poisoning, had me fall through a burning building and slash my leg open, dislocate my shoulder mountaineering…" Deeks paused for breath. "Then I've been shot in the butt (by Kensi) and got strep throat as a side order, I was blown up in a car explosion, along with Hetty, shot again in the stomach, and of course I've been knocked out more times than I can count. Mainly because I can't count any more, due to the brain damage. I think that's all."

"For now," Kensi said darkly. Given all of the above had happened within a mere five months, she was none too sanguine about what the future held. Still, he did look so lovely when maimed and modelling bandages, so who could possibly blame Maxie Kay for indulging herself?

"Dear God." Well, Shane could hardly say "Dear Me" and hope to have the same sort of dramatic impact. And was it possible to take his own name in vain? "She's like a one-woman Armageddon."

"On the plus side, I'm a millionaire, with a cool house and a dog," Deeks said happily. "So it's not all bad."

"And you've got me too," Kensi reminded him.

"Like I said – brain damage."

Shane looked at him and then at the PC screen. "Getting typing, surfer boy - because you could just about be here all night. And don't even thing about putting in a claim for overtime." He went off to have a little word with the writers – as in "you're all sacked". Why have a whole team when one Scottish female with bloodthirsty tastes was available? As long as she liked explosions, that was.

"Don't worry, Deeks. I'll stay and help you," Kensi said generously. He was still shirtless, after all, and just like Maxie Kay, Kensi was rather partial to shirtless Deeks. She was even more partial to totally naked Deeks. But that, dear readers, is another story.

**THE END**


End file.
